


Increase Your Circulation

by neveralarch



Category: Johannes Cabal - Jonathan L. Howard
Genre: F/F, post-The Fall of the House of Cabal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 00:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13135044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: Miss Smith summons Zarenyia to help with an intimate problem. A very intimate problem.(Zarenyia coaches Miss Smith to orgasm. That's it, that's the fic.)





	Increase Your Circulation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JackOfNone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackOfNone/gifts).



> Happy yuletide, JackOfNone! This was a treat fic that got a little out of hand. I just love this pairing too much :) Thanks for requesting it!
> 
> This fic contains explicit sex - please let me know if you need details.

After her adventure with Johannes Cabal and company, Miss Smith spent exactly one week being overjoyed that she was alive. This was followed by one week being reasonably pleased that she was alive, and then one week being mildly irritated with the inconveniences of being alive. 

On the one hand, Miss Smith had been very lucky. She’d come back to herself among the burned ruins of her house, with all of her bits, even the ones Johannes had taken for his laboratory. She’d walked to town without much trouble, and became the proud owner of a warehouse-cum-laboratory with really a minimal amount of violence. What more could be asked for?

On the other hand, Miss Smith was remembering what had driven her to the extremes of black magic in the first place. She'd never much liked having a body, and she'd been guiltily proud of having escaped it to live in the Dreamlands and never have to blow her nose or consume a poorly-cooked meal or hang uselessly on the frustrating edge of orgasm ever again. Now she did all three quite often, because she was prone to colds, a lamentable cook, and had the unfortunate combination of a high libido and decreasing dexterity as she became more aroused. 

It was frustrating in the extreme. Miss Smith took vitamins, bought a recipe book, and tried some pelvic exercises. The vitamins and the recipe book helped, but the pelvic exercises didn't—except to focus her mind on the problem of sexual pleasure, which inevitably increased her desire for it. Soon Miss Smith was spending large portions of the day being exhaustingly horny and not getting any work done on her necromantic experiments, which were meant to rid her of this highly flawed body altogether.

In desperation, Miss Smith turned to the dark arts.

"I don't think I'm really who you want," said Zarenyia, peering out from the summoning circle. "Should I find a nice succubus for you? There's Deborah, very skilled, absolutely massive tits—"

"I can't trust this to an evil creature of hell who delights in murder and destruction," said Miss Smith, aghast.

Zarenyia studied her nails, which were manicured a delicate coral pink.

"I mean," corrected Miss Smith, "not a strange one."

"I'm very strange." Zarenyia smiled.

"I’m sure you don’t mean to keep teasing me." Miss Smith sighed. "I really do want you. I thought we’d become friends, over the time we spent together. And you're so attractive, and I—"

"Go on," purred Zarenyia.

"And I can't resist my body any longer," said Miss Smith, crossly.

"Could you say that coquettishly instead of crossly?" asked Zarenyia.

Miss Smith made an attempt. Zarenyia shook her head. "No, it won't do. I can't help you."

"Was it not coquettish enough?" Miss Smith blinked rapidly, trying to bat her eyes.

"The problem is," said Zarenyia, "oh, I'm going to be very frank with you, darling, but only because I don't actually want to murder you. I'm a succubine, not a succu _bus_. I don't give people orgasms, I take them. Violently, vindictively, and fatally."

"Oh." Miss Smith tried not to be too disappointed, and failed utterly.

"Sweetness," cooed Zarenyia. "Don't look so crushed! I'm sure we can solve this little problem some other way. Have you tried a ghoul orgy?"

Miss Smith conveyed that ghouls were the epitome of nasty bodily functions, and she wouldn't touch one intimately with a ten-foot pole, despite what Zarenyia might have heard. Zarenyia clucked her tongue.

"Singles' night?" she suggested.

Miss Smith again attempted to convey her distaste for nasty bodily functions, especially when attached to a thirty-seven-year-old man who drank IPAs and insisted on being called Harold. Zarenyia thought this was uncharitable, but didn't try to press the subject.

"Well, you must have already burnt out your vibrator," she mused. "I suppose you could try—"

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Oh, just my little joke." Zarenyia giggled. "I meant, you must have rode your vibrator until it broke from overuse, and if that didn't work—"

"What's a vibrator?" asked Miss Smith.

Zarenyia looked at Miss Smith with a mixture of astonishment, pity, and glee. "Tell me, sweety, have you always turned to the dark arts as your first option?"

"Second," admitted Miss Smith. "I tried exercises first."

\---

Miss Smith had a good stock of mechanical components in her laboratory, and Zarenyia had a surprisingly detailed knowledge of the construction of a hand-cranked vibrator. Miss Smith followed her directions exactly.

"I'm sure it would be easier if I let you out of the circle," said Miss Smith, as she oiled the gears to let them turn more smoothly.

"Mhmm. Yes, more oil." Zarenyia bit her lip. "I mean, no, I don't think it's safe, darling. I'm only human—or devil, as it happens. I'm not sure I could help taking just one orgasm, and then if I took one I might as well take two, and so on and so on, and then I'm left with a poor little husk of a corpse and nothing to comfort me but a full belly. We'll be much happier with the circle in place."

"You could dib," suggested Miss Smith.

"Wisdom," said Zarenyia, "is knowing when you can't trust yourself to dib."

Miss Smith turned the crank, and was pleased when the little vibrator head rattled and buzzed. "Is that right?"

"Very good!" Zarenyia clapped her hands. "Now take off all of your clothes, please—but not your socks, we need to keep your toesies warm."

"Do I need to take off _all_ of my clothes?" asked Miss Smith, already working on her corset.

"Constriction isn't good for orgasms," said Zarenyia. "Also, I simply adore looking at breasts, don't you? Little soft pillows of fat and blood. They're so fun to nibble on, though I have to be careful of my teeth—oh. Yes, those _are_ nice."

Miss Smith stood in socks and waved the vibrator to regain Zarenyia's attention.

"Lie down at that desk, won't you?" Zarenyia's gaze darted from Miss Smith's breasts to her belly to her thighs, making Miss Smith flush all down her neck and chest. She felt pleasantly tingly as she sat on the desk, and then she felt very tingly indeed as she followed Zarenyia's directions and spread her labia just enough to fit the head of the vibrator over her clitoris. Just having it pressed there felt nice, especially when Zarenyia was looking at her in that hungry way. Miss Smith spread her thighs a little, trying to give Zarenyia the best angle.

"You're lovely," said Zarenyia. "I'm so glad you like me. Some women don't, I don't know why. I think it's all the murder, but I can't be sure. Men are very nice, very easy, but sometimes I enjoy the challenge of a woman, don't you? So many more buttons. Turn the crank, there's a good girl."

Miss Smith turned the crank, and yelped faintly at the sensation. She chased it, cranking harder, shifting the vibrator until she found the perfect place that made her whine and her thighs trembling. She was sweating in the cool laboratory, and Zarenyia was crooning to her, throaty and pleased. This was normally the moment when Miss Smith’s fingers would slip out of place or her thumbnail would dig painfully into her privates, but instead she could just crank, crank, crank as her hips jerked and her toes curled in their socks. Miss Smith trembled on the edge of orgasm again, but this time she felt like she was reaching a summit rather than hitting a wall. With another crank she tipped over, and her legs closed tight around the vibrator as her vagina contracted, trying to pull out more of the phantom stimulation.

Miss Smith relaxed slowly onto the desk, panting. Some fluid was seeping out of her genitals, but for once she didn't mind it so much—not even when it smeared against the desk. She didn't let go of the vibrator.

"That's it," murmured Zarenyia. "Take a nice little break. I think you ought to put something inside you now, don't you? That screwdriver there looks very useful, doesn't it? Such a long, thick handle."

Miss Smith whimpered. "Right now?"

"You don’t want to stop now, do you dearheart?" Zarenyia's hands were rubbing at her stomach, the chitinous join between her human- and spider-like halves. "We’re just getting started!"

Miss Smith wondered if the summoning circle was keeping her _entirely_ safe from Zarenyia's influence. Then again, she decided as she reached for the conveniently thick-handled screwdriver, she didn't much care.

**Author's Note:**

> (If you're interested, Miss Smith is using [this style of vibrator](https://static01.nyt.com/images/2015/08/16/nyregion/16VAULT1/16VAULT1-master1050.jpg), which you can learn more about [here](https://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/16/nyregion/from-the-vault-of-the-museum-of-sex-macauras-pulsocon.html).)


End file.
